born_this_wayne | ic inbox

between the two of us i'm the younger one, stop behaving like a child and tell me where you are.

*There's a sulky delay before the next message, one that's privately wrought with anxiety and unease.*

southtown. at the zoo.

[and there's no response on damian's end. just damian showing up barely ten minutes later, wearing his civilian clothes and actually looking sort of worried?

nah, can't be.] What happened? [then again, maybe...]

*For someone who's just died a literally torturous death and is living with the threat of his friends' lives over his own head, Danny looks... surprisingly okay. There's still shadows in his eyes, of course, and it's clear something has happened, but he's giving mixed signals here.*

Well I died, is what's happened.

*He unfolds himself from sitting on an abandoned kiosk counter and scoots off the edge. His cellphone isn't in his hands: he's been waiting for Damian without entertainment.*

Some of my, uh, food was poisoned. I think it was the technicians. Um. All of it was from foodland.

Try again.

[damian tells him flatly, arms crossed over his chest. death is too common around here for someone to look like that over a little poisoning, especially someone like danny who had been lecturing damian over what a place like this could do to people, back when they first met.

not to mention that no one else has mentioned poisoned food over the network yet, and that's something that would have been brought. danny himself would have brought it up if he thought it was something that could happen to everyone.

to warn them.]

Remember I know when you're lying.

[granted it didn't seem like everything danny was saying was a lie. parts of it seemed to come easier to him. it was the lies damian was concerned with though. the truths would come later.]

*His eyes narrow, and he has the distinct look of someone bracing for the long haul. There's also--regret? He regrets letting this meeting happen.*

Dude, that's not even a real super power.

And I'm not lying to you. I might be wrong, sure, but who else is going to go around leaving poison out for people to eat?

[damian raises a single eyebrow at danny and let's the silence sit just long enough.]

Plenty of people. The world isn't a nice place, even outside of this very tiny piece of hell that we've all found ourselves in. Did I ever tell you what my mother did to me when I told her I wanted to keep saving people?

... No.

*Danny wasn't expecting this change in approach. He draws back a little, resistance fading to something more uncertain.*

Um. What'd she do?

She put a chip in my brain and made me try to kill my brother.

[whoah he actually said it. well, it has more of an effect saying it like that, which is why he did. and because dick isn't around to hear it and get a swelled head over it.]

The first person to actually care about me outside of what I could do for them. She made me try to kill him with my own two hands. Because I chose him over her.

Edited 2014-12-09 06:13 (UTC)

... Wow. *Shock. Solemnity. Danny understands at least some of what Damian described, as well as the magnitude of him having brought it up at all.*

Um.

Your mom's kind of a huge jerk.

Just--just for the record, and all.

Edited 2014-12-09 06:28 (UTC)

[and damian actually laughs at danny's comment, though it's a soft and somewhat reserved laugh nonetheless.

perhaps even a bit bitter.]

She threatened to replace me with a clone of myself after, as well. She's my mother, she's supposed to love me. So if she can still do something like that, imagine what complete strangers are capable of.

[and oh hey look, it wasn't as much of a subject change as danny might have believed.]

*Danny drops his gaze, expression shutting down. The moment is brief: horror, and 'if we cut off your hands now, do you think you'd wake up with them next week? don't have enough time to really get off the ground, and he's tapping into the Danny Fenton side of himself. It's a tell in its own right: 'Danny Fenton' is the crutch that doesn't have to worry about ghost fighting. Danny Fenton has the freedom to stop caring about his latest traumas, because if he starts caring he'll go insane.*

*Damian is trying to go against this game. He's demanding to see a wound that Danny's managed to hide so far, and Danny can't tell if he's hysterically pleased that someone recognizes something is very, very wrong, or terrified that he might actually talk about it. Czes was right: Danny wants to talk. He's equally right that Danny can't tell anyone if he wants to keep them safe.*

*Danny leaves heavily into his mental shield, swinging guilt and regret over one shoulder like grocery bags. Damian just confided this in him. Danny will confide back in him some other day, and he'll tell him even more to make up for his lies now.*

Dude...

I'm--really sorry about your mom, but--don't you think that was kind of the point I was making all along?

The technicians are strangers, and they've never really cared about us.

I don't need apologies about my mother, I've lived with her this long already. [blunt and dismissive. what good would apologies do him anyway?]

I might have even been as bad as her once, or did you forget that I used to be an assassin? You're foolish if you think that the only cruel people here are our captors, and I don't actually believe you're that foolish.

Besides, I tend to stop regarding people who kill me as strangers, don't you?

... Not really.

*Some of that guilt fades. Robin doesn't need or want his sympathy anyway, like one of his friends from home might have.*

If you don't know them, and you don't know their names, then that's kind of what a stranger is.

Do you honestly think that I would let anyone who killed me remain in the dark for long?

*Danny's eyes widen, and for a split moment of clarity he's seeing--something. Not Damian, but a piece that he is in a larger picture. Danny speaks slowly.* No...

... Not unless you had no choice, like we don't have now.

There are always choices.

[damian rolls his eyes, though not before he notices danny's own reaction. his mouth thins as he considers how much more stubborn danny is going to be now.]
.
Some are just harder to make than others. [his head tilts slowly to one side, taking on the image of a curious bird for a moment, which is the closes that damian has managed to figure out how to appear benign.]

If you were worried about the food sources being poisoned, why didn't you make some kind of announcement over the network?

Um. I. Didn't want to cause a panic, and--by the time I'd, uh, asked around enough, I figured it probably just wasn't necessary.

It sounds like it was a one-time fluke.

[damian stares quietly at danny and wonders if the other boy really doesn't understand that damian can tell he's lying. he shakes his head with a sharp exhalation and pulls out his phone to quickly send off a text, brow furrowed.

then glances between danny and the phone thoughtfully before coming to a decision.]

I'm going to give you my personal number. And my name. [he tells danny, like he hasn't just entirely changed the subject again. he's getting nowhere this way anyway.]

... Wait. Really? Like--*Danny produces his (latest) phone, thumb slowing before it can actually activate the screen.* Your real one?

*The cellphone lowers a notch.* ... Why?

I mean, not that I don't appreciate the gesture and everything, but--I haven't exactly done a lot to earn it...

Edited 2014-12-10 06:06 (UTC)

[bemusedly.] I only have the one.

[not strictly true, but he'd left his mother's name behind awhile ago.]

I know you're not going to abuse the information. You're incredibly easy to read, after all. [subtle jab here. did you notice it danny?]

Edited 2014-12-10 06:09 (UTC)

Hah. Usually when people tell me that, it's a bad thing.

*Danny lied to him, pestered him, called him kid, and won't even warn him about Czes. He's not being a very good friend today, is he?*

For what it's worth, though, you're right. I won't tell anyone, if you tell me.

[it's not like damian has a good idea of what a friend is supposed to be like anyway.]

It's not necessarily a good thing, but it helps in this one instance, I guess. My name is Damian Wayne. [he rattles off the number to his personal number.]

*There's a brief, odd hesitance, before he's keying his phone on and punching the number in.*

Damian. Uh--you probably already knew mine, but I'm Danny Fenton.

[bemusedly. which of the two of you has less experience with the whole friend thing here?] I do.

[then suddenly serious.] I also know that you're still keeping something from me about what happened to you. I just can't figure out why. It's not embarrassment, is it fear? You know I can help you with that, right?

Edited 2014-12-10 07:02 (UTC)

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